


Seven Minutes

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Junior High, Awkwardness, First Kiss, Fluff, Junior High, Kissing Games, M/M, Middle School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Okay, quiet! Everyone! Quiet!" Rachel stands up from her place in the circle, smoothing at her bubblegum pink party dress and beaming at them all. “We’re going to play—"</p><p>Spin the bottle.</p><p>"—seven minutes in heaven!"</p><p>Oh god. Blaine had thought it was bad, but now he thinks it is much, much worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> **Anonymous prompted:** Junior high Klaine, first kiss

"Come on!" Mike says, tugging Blaine down into the circle of his peers; they’re all sitting, legs folded or crossed, and yet Blaine still feels immensely out of place. It probably has to do with the fact that he’s felt out of place during the entire party—he still doesn’t know why he was invited to Rachel Berry’s thirteenth birthday, only that she keeps batting her eyes at him from across the circle and making him feel very uncomfortable.

"What are we playing?" Blaine hisses, but he can see the bottle in the center of the circle and feels the dread curl up from his stomach.

"Okay, quiet! Everyone! Quiet!" Rachel stands up from her place in the circle, smoothing at her bubblegum pink party dress and beaming at them all. “We’re going to play—"

 _Spin the bottle_.

"—seven minutes in heaven!"

 _Oh god_. Blaine had thought it was bad, but now he thinks it is much,  _much_  worse. 

The circle breaks out in whispers while Blaine tries to make himself as small as possible—it’s not hard, he still hasn’t hit any kind of a growth spurt yet—so that the bottle is less likely to land on him.

He doesn’t pay much attention to who is spinning it, but he watches as it turns and turns and doesn’t land on him. Each time it doesn’t, he feels his anxiety loosen in his chest, and right when he thinks he’s in the clear… It stops, bottle neck pointed dead at him.

Blaine doesn’t even know who spun it.

But, looking up, he can see the boy seated to Rachel’s right—thin and short, face covered in freckles—staring at Blaine like he has no idea what to do.

Everyone is staring at Blaine, and he feels his neck start to sweat.  _They know, they all know, how do they know?_  No one knows—only Mike, who keeps shooting Blaine looks like he wishes there was something he could do—but somehow they’re all looking at him like they know.

"Maybe we should let him spin agai—"

"No way!" One of the boys says, moving to his knees—Blaine doesn’t remember his name. “You guys made me go in the closet with Noah!"

"It’s Puck!"

"Fair is fair!"

"It’s okay, I don’t mind," the boy finally says, his voice quiet, and he’s still staring at Blaine as if he’s terrified. His voice is higher than the others’—higher than Blaine’s—without even the hint of breaking, like it will always be that high. Blaine can’t help but think that it’s kind of pretty.

Blaine doesn’t say anything, moving slowly to his feet and brushing at his jeans (they’re clean, but he needs the distraction) and, with someone pushing at the bend in his knee, he’s jolting forward and following the other boy towards the closet. It feels like a death march.

He wishes he knew the other boy’s name, but he doesn’t know very many people at the party. The boy at least looks familiar, but Blaine doesn’t know if they have any classes together—he hopes not. It would make him feel horrible if this boy had always been there and Blaine had never noticed.

"Seven minutes starting… Now!" Rachel says, snapping the door shut, and then it’s dark. Blaine doesn’t even know where the boy went, but he seals his own back against the door and lets himself slide down to the floor.

It’s unnervingly quiet and, as uncomfortable as Blaine is, he certainly isn’t rude.

"I’m Blaine—"

"I’m sorry."

Blaine blinks at the darkness and looks off to his left, where the voice came from. His eyes are starting to adjust and he can make out a faint outline, but not much else.

"What?" Blaine asks, and then he hears a sigh before there’s a click—a light turns on above them, and he blinks at it owlishly.

"I’m sorry." The boy doesn’t look at him, fussing with the folded sleeve of his shirt. “I don’t know why Rachel invites me to these things… No one really likes me, and they’re probably saying really horrible things about you right now." He doesn’t sound sorry, but… Resigned, and his arms are folded over himself as if he’s trying to make himself even smaller.

"You don’t need to apologize," Blaine says quietly, wishing the boy would look at him or give him a name. But the boy just shrugs his shoulders, folding himself down to the floor and being very careful not to brush any part Blaine. “I’m Blaine, by the way." In case the boy didn’t hear him the first time.

He does look over now, eyebrows drawn together in confusion over very, very blue eyes, and he stares where Blaine has extended his hand like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

"…Kurt," he says, and cautiously slips his hand into Blaine’s—his skin is,  _wow_ , really soft. Blaine smiles at him and Kurt smiles back, tentatively, like he’s unsure what to make of all of Blaine’s enthusiasm.

"Why do you think they’re going to say bad things about me?" Blaine asks, scooting away from the door and closer to Kurt. Kurt looks surprised by the movement, shrinking back a bit, and then looks down.

"…because they all think I’m gay," Kurt whispers quietly, and a thrill of fear shoots up Blaine’s spine. “So they probably think I’m trying to kiss you." Kurt looks up and then back again, his face brilliant with his blush. “Sorry."

"You’re not, though," Blaine whispers, nudging at Kurt’s shoe with the toe of his own. Kurt just gives a short nod, and then it’s quiet again. Blaine bites down on his lip, to keep the question from coming out, but it’s still not enough to stop him from blurting, “are you?"

Kurt looks up at him, in surprise, and then in suspicion.

“ _No_ ," he answers, too quickly.

"It’s—" Blaine flounders, fingers drumming nervously against his ankles. “It’s okay if you are, you know," he finally says, voice quiet. “I don’t… I don’t think it’s bad, or wrong, or gross, or… Or anything."

He can feel Kurt looking at him, but now he’s the one who can’t look up. He stares at his tennis shoes, unblinking, and feels the words dancing on the back of his tongue. Blaine’s told one person, his  _best friend_ , and no one else knows. He said that he would never, ever tell anyone else,  _ever_. But… But he wants to tell Kurt, and he isn’t sure why. Maybe because Kurt’s scared, and Blaine is scared, too.

"…I am," Blaine admits, so quietly, and he can hear Kurt’s gasp—it stings, and he waits, wonders if he was wrong, if he made a mistake, wishes he could take it back or disappear and  _oh no_ , what if Kurt tells  _everyone?_

"Blaine?"

He jerks, alert, when Kurt hesitantly brushes his fingertips against Blaine’s knees. Blaine can feel the unshed tears in his eyes, the  _fear_ , but he looks up anyways and sees… Sees  _wonder_  in Kurt’s eyes, staring straight through him. He doesn’t say anything, mouth opening and closing, but then he just nods and whispers, “yes,  _yes_ , I— _yes_."

And that’s all Blaine needs to hear.

He feels like he might cry.

"I’ve never—" Kurt’s voice catches, and maybe Kurt  _is_  going to cry, and… Blaine doesn’t know what this makes him and Kurt now, but they’re definitely friends. Blaine isn’t sure why, but he needs Kurt now. He has Mike, but it’s not the same. With Kurt, he doesn’t have to be alone.

Blaine shifts closer until their thighs are pressed together, and he carefully puts his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. He’s never sat this close to a boy before, especially not a boy who’s the same as he is, and it makes his skin feel very tingly.

"Shh, it’s okay, I know," Blaine says, voice soft and soothing, and Kurt leans in to him. He’s so tiny—maybe even tinier than Blaine is—and they fit together easily. “We don’t—we don’t have to be alone anymore, okay? We can… We can be friends, and be here for each other, and—"

"You want to be my friend?" Kurt sounds so small.

"I—yes. Yes, of course I do."

Kurt turns and peers up at him, all blue eyes and brown hair flopped across his forehead, but he’s smiling and—and Blaine remembers why they’re in the closet in the first place, and suddenly he wants to do what they’re supposed to be doing.

"…I don’t—this is weird, but…" Blaine reaches up and tugs at his curly, wild hair, feeling his skin heat up. “Could I—would it, I mean, we’re in here anyways and—" Kurt is staring at him like he’s crazy as he trips over his words, and then Kurt’s hand settles over Blaine’s fidgeting one and Blaine blurts, “can I kiss you?"

It’s so quiet, Blaine can practically hear his new friendship breaking in half.

"You… You  _want_  to kiss me?"

Kurt stares at Blaine, confused and awestruck and lips parted in wonder. Blaine isn’t sure he has any words left, and his tongue feels all tied, so he just nods, swallowing thickly and waiting for Kurt to push him off. But Kurt is just blushing, the apples of his cheeks pink, and he glances away shyly and nods.

 _Oh_.

That’s— _oh_.

Blaine lifts his shaking hand hesitantly—he’s never kissed anyone before, he has no idea what he’s doing—and cups Kurt’s cheek. It’s warm beneath his fingertips, and Kurt’s eyes flicker to his and for a moment there is just really awkward staring.

But then Kurt closes his eyes, so Blaine closes his and does what he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to do next—leans in.

Their noses bump, and Blaine laughs, and then Kurt laughs, but Blaine doesn’t open his eyes. If he opens his eyes, he’ll get scared, and he won’t do it, and now he really,  _really_  wants to do it.

It works better the second time. Kurt tastes like chapstick, and his lips are soft like his hands— _softer_ —and are firm against his. It only lasts a few seconds before they both pull back, eyelashes fluttering open and faces red and all Blaine can really think about is doing it again.

"That was my first kiss," Kurt whispers, and Blaine nods, because he still can’t talk and his hand is still on Kurt’s face. So he leans in again, this time catching Kurt by surprise and he can feel Kurt’s eyelashes brush his cheek as they close. The second time is even  _better_.

When Rachel finally knocks on the door and calls them out, it feels like it’s been years rather than minutes. There were  _three_  kisses, and Blaine keeps thinking about number  _four_ , and he feels positively  _drunk_  on Kurt. Kurt, who sends him a shy smile and ducks his head, and Blaine is  _so happy_  he came to Rachel Berry’s birthday party.


End file.
